These Days
by riveriver
Summary: A collection of various Jacob/Leah one shots. Many themes, many feels. (Canon and AU scenarios. Includes Blackwater romance, friendship, family ties, an appearance from Julie Black, and a little bit of growing up.)
1. Jacob Saves Leah

**_A/N:_** _As usual, I come bearing no excuses._

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _No rights, no nothing. SM can keep her half-baked bloodsuckers._

 ** _Warnings & Guidance:_** _Unedited one shots. Bad language, happiness and unhappiness, anger issues and maybe some fluff. Maybe some crack!shots (I'll give another warning but no apology for those). Some prompts may have to be hosted on my LiveJournal and/or AO3. Updates will have no pattern to them. Story will never be marked as 'complete'. You're welcome to make suggestions, if you'd like, or take the prompts for yourself (and let me know, so I can have some good reading)._

* * *

 **These Days**

* * *

 ** _Jacob saves Leah, but Leah doesn't need to be saved._**  
 _(expanded from my one shot 'Take Everything from the Inside' — set after the newborn battle in Eclipse)_

* * *

Doctor Fang has overdone it on the morphine again, Leah thinks, when Jacob greets her with that wide, sunny smile and those shining eyes.

(Again, because she'd been there the first time the bloodsucker had injected him — Jacob had been comatose by the time their brothers had gotten him through the front door, and if she hadn't been able to hear his heartbeat she could have sworn he was dead. She knows that for a moment, Billy thought he was.)

She's not been in his bedroom since Rach and Becca dared her to put sand on his sheets and the underwear in his drawers. It had been worth Sarah shaking her head with quiet disappointment (which, somehow, had always been worse than her own mom's anger), and it had even been worth her dad cutting her allowance. But she'd gotten her own back on Rach and Becca by daring them to eat a worm each (because playing Truth or Dare with them as separate people could never happen).

Only the posters on the walls and the books on his bedside table have changed, as has the boy who the room belongs to. His nearly seven foot frame is sprawled awkwardly on his bed, his legs too long and the rest of him bruised but floating on cloud nine.

But Jacob is still a boy, sixteen years old and dealing with more shit than even she is.

"Leah," he says happily after he sees her leaning against the door frame. "We kicked ass today, huh?"

She nods, because she's not getting in the whole _I had it, you moron!_ argument with him right now, nor the fact that the whole kicking ass thing turned a little bit scary for a moment.

She only wanted to check in. Annoying little brothers might be the only thing she has in common with Rach and Becca these days, but she has a lot more in common with Jacob than even he's willing to admit. Also, his tolerance of her is a lot higher than a lot of the others.

Besides, it wasn't like anyone else had jumped in between her and that feral newborn — whether she needed the help or not. Which she most certainly did not, thank you very much.

And she was _not_ feeling guilty.

Jacob pouts. "You are unhappy. Why are you always unhappy?"

She just nods again, because she is and because she can't tell him that she's unhappy he almost died on her. That she'd felt his pain as vividly as if it were her own, and that she's particularly unhappy there's a strong stench of _leech_ and _Bella_ lingering in his tiny bedroom.

"What about you?" she asks before he can prod at the things she doesn't want to talk about. She forces her lips to pull into a tiny smile. "You look like you're having your own party in here."

For someone who has convinced the Pack he has a death wish, Jacob's not doing so bad. He's got the good stuff.

"Not so much." Jacob rolls his head on his pillow, turning his eyes back on the ceiling. "Bells—" Leah tries not to pull a face at the name, she really does try "—came by. Did some ass kicking of her own."

 _Well, it's about time. She's saved me a job_ , Leah wants to say. "How'd that go?" comes out instead.

He huffs loudly and closes his eyes, giving her his answer, which will be something else completely once he's up on his feet again, she's sure. Hopefully, he won't remember the leech lover breaking him into pieces again, and with a bit of luck maybe he won't remember her coming by and trying to be nice to him either.

Maybe he'll tell her why he put himself between her and that baby bloodsucker.

Jacob's eventually breathing turns even, and Leah wanders over to pick up his battered copy of _Christine_ by Stephen King from the bedside table (trust him to own a horror novel about a damn _car_ ) before she makes herself at home on the end of his bed, careful not to jostle him or his mangled bones.

"Ge'rroff," he slurs half-heartedly, drugged up to his eyeballs.

"Sorry, no can do. Here I don't have to listen to Seth moon over Edward fucking Cullen," she tells him, although there are many other reasons she could give, but his broken-heart doesn't need to them hear right now.

Jacob mumbles incoherently, even to her own ears, but it's something furious and probably contains a few death threats towards his leech-lover's boyfriend. Sorry — _fiance_.

They'd all heard about _that_ while they'd been tearing their teeth into marble and ice.

"Go to sleep, Jake," she says, leaning her back against the wall and opening the book. He's dog-eared the chapter where Arnie meets that high-school beauty.

Typical.

Jacob mumbles what could be another death threat — for her, this time — and is asleep within seconds.

Leah stays until Doctor Fang visits again, at which point she climbs out of the window rather than summoning the courage to walk through the house. That would mean she'd see Sam, who is escorting the parasite around their reservation.

Yeah. No, thanks.

She takes the book with her.


	2. Leah Clearwater and Julie Black

**_Wherein Leah Clearwater makes friends with Julie Black_**  
 _(a mix of the Twilight universes, set during and after New Moon)_

* * *

 ** _Explanatory A/N:_** _I originally wrote some of this as part of a bunch of one shots for my best Canadian, Casey (a soul of thunder)._ _Julie/Jules was called Jennifer/Jenna, because I couldn't get on with the name Meyer chose (I still can't, but I don't get on with a lot of things that woman chose_ — _we all know this)._ _I was also toying with the names Ruth, Julia, Judith and Joanna, in keeping with the Biblical name tradition for the Black kids (even Rachel and Rebecca's counterparts were named Adam and Aaron). However, for the sake of FFn and canon, I begrudgingly stuck with Julie and then added a few hundred words._

 _What a life._

 _Does anyone have their own headcanon about fem!Jake?_

* * *

"Sometimes, just saying that you hate something, and having someone agree with you,  
can make you feel better about a terrible situation."

 **Lemony Snicket**

* * *

When Leah Clearwater phases for the first time it is Julie Black who draws the short end of the stick and has to chase her down, because Sam and Jared are busy trying to coax Seth out of the cave he has holed himself up in and — after the sudden reappearance of a bloodsucking Cullen — Embry and Paul are securing the reservation's boundary lines.

 _Well… you_ are _a girl_ , says Embry over the panicked chatter in their heads.

Julie snorts. _What gave me away?_

Embry valiantly attempts to not think about the last time he inadvertently saw her naked. Not because he wants to jump her bones (they've been best friends since they were able to walk — Quil, too, she thinks sadly), but because the Pack mind is a constant stream of subconscious thoughts and distracting interference. Their once private thoughts are now raw, unchecked and unfiltered, and extremely hard to shield. _Not_ thinking about something makes it ten times worse.

(And on top of straightforward, intentional communication, it's a _massive_ headache. Especially with Seth's crying and Leah's screaming.)

Julie's growl echoes for miles when she catches a fleeting memory of her bare butt as seen through Embry's eyes, who in turn hurriedly tries to push the thought away and instead focus on his perimeter run — but now Jared _and_ Paul _and_ Sam are thinking about her butt, too.

Fantastic.

Their Alpha manages to shake it off first. His disapprovement resonates throughout the Pack's mind, a wordless command, and the brothers have enough sense to act decently shamed.

 _Focus_ , he says, in case the first warning was not enough, and he turns his attention back to a cowering Seth Clearwater.

Apparently Sam and Julie are the best people to babysit newbies, to guide them through their first phase. Sam, because he learnt how to cope the hard way — on his own — and Julie, because the lines between being _just Jules_ and being a wolf are a little blurry these days. Both are so easy for her, so interchangeable, that she doesn't even have to _think_ like her older brothers do. Old Quil says it's because Ephraim's blood is her blood, and so it doesn't matter that she's never done this before. It's instinctive. Natural.

 _Focus_ , orders Sam again, and Julie forgets Old Quil and pushes herself to her limit.

Leah is _fast_. And so freaked out, so blinded by her grief that she has almost crossed the length of Oregon.

It won't be easy, phasing back. When Julie phased for the first time, it took nearly two days for her to be able to stand on two legs again.

This is going to be worse. Because Harry Clearwater is dead, and his daughter's broken heart is going to shatter beyond repair when she learns the truth about Sam and Emily.

* * *

Leah doesn't apologise for the cuts and bruises Julie is sporting. Instead she paces the clearing they have found, dragging her paws deep into the dirt and looking with an odd expression at the destruction she causes, but at least she has calmed down enough to stop running.

Julie sits stark naked in the unfamiliar forest. The gash on her side had stopped bleeding by the time Leah chose to start swiping erratically at her face.

"S'not all bad," she says to the grey wolf while she watches the injuries on her forearms stitch back together. She hadn't put up much of a fight. "So long as you can deal with not wearing a bra for the rest of your life."

Leah barks. She's laughing, as if to say, _I never wore one anyway, in case I ran into Sam_.

But Julie already knows, because Sam had noticed when he'd seen Leah at the store and he'd unwittingly thought about it for hours.

* * *

When Julie and Leah stumble back onto the reservation in the dead of night, Julie finds clothes for the both of them in Rachel and Rebecca's old room and sits Leah down in the kitchen.

It has only taken Leah twenty-two hours to be able to find a grip on reality again, so Julie thinks she's done a pretty good job of this babysitting thing. The other girl hasn't even cussed once yet. But maybe that's because she is crying.

(Julie has _never_ seen Leah cry, not even when they were kids.)

When Julie begins hacking at waist-length hair with a pair of scissors, Leah cries harder. Julie doesn't tell her that she did the exact same when Sam sat _her_ down in Emily's kitchen and chopped off her dark braid.

She doesn't tell her, because it won't make her feel any better now that she's found out the truth as to why Sam left her in the first place. And it is with that thought, after twenty-two hours of hell, Julie realises Beau has pretty much abandoned her, too.

* * *

"Get over him already, girl," Leah says a few days later. "It's not like you lost him because of an imprint."

Julie scowls. "No. I lost him to a corpse."

The both of them have nightmares about imprinting, but bloodsuckers will _always_ be so much worse. And even though Emily Young might be as terrible as Edythe fucking Cullen in Leah's eyes, at least _her_ sworn enemy is _alive_.

"Fair shout," Leah says, and she hands Julie the bottle of vodka. They're not quite friends yet, but Julie takes what she can get. While Leah makes an effort not to be as mean to her as she is to their brothers, Julie has promised not to kiss Emily's ass. "You win."

* * *

They're friends after the second bottle of vodka, after Beau has settled down with The Corpse again and after Leah has seen Emily and Sam wrapped around one another.

It doesn't matter that Leah is four years older than Julie and that neither of them can get drunk in their new bodies. It doesn't matter that sometimes Julie's sadness is more than Leah can handle, or that sometimes Julie doesn't have the right things to say when Leah spends half an hour shouting at the world. Their hurt is the same. They have to stick together now.

* * *

"We never really had a choice, you and me," Julie's new friend says as she falls into place beside her on the log on the beach. Quil has just joined the pack, which means yet another bonfire. Julie has never seen Old Quil smile so much.

"What with?" she asks, because there have been so many things out of her control lately that she's having a hard time keeping up.

"With this." Leah throws her arms up. "All of this shit. I mean, my mum's maiden name is _Uley_ for fuck's sake, and _you_ should be Chief Black."

"I don't wanna be Chief," Julie replies, digging her toes into the sand. She shredded her last pair of shoes last week, a day after her dad swore she would have to go barefoot for the rest of her life if she couldn't keep her temper under control, but it wasn't _her_ fault that Paul had thought she was an easy target.

She'd shown him.

"I think you should be," Leah says seriously. "You'd kick ass at kicking their asses." She looks pointedly at their brothers, who are chasing a frisbee around the beach like a bunch of retrievers on a group walk.

"I'm sure you'd be a great help with that."

"I fully expect you to make me your Second if you decide to take over," Leah tells her. "Otherwise I might have to kick _your_ ass."

Leah kicks her ass a lot, Julie thinks. "Did you not _see_ me beat the crap outta Lahote?" she asks.

She looks so indignant about it all that Leah says, "You're funny," and her lips twist into a rare smile. Julie knows there is no higher compliment in her friend's eyes, and bites back her own grin. "I'd still kick your ass."

"You probably would." Julie trusts Leah to call her out on her shit now that Rach and Beck don't come home much, but then Leah has always been much more interesting than the twins. Julie has never dared to say as much, because she'd never live it down. "But with your words."

Leah has been known to shut up Sue Clearwater in a slanging match, but then she is the only person brave enough to take her mother on. Even Sam had steered clear of Sue after he'd shacked up with Emily.

"Yeah," Leah says. "Those hurt."

Julie remembers how, earlier in the week, she told Beau she would rather he died than turn into a leech, and she agrees.

* * *

When Julie crosses the border which separates Washington and Canada, Leah doesn't try to stop her as their brothers do. She isn't even angry when Julie surrenders herself over to her animal instincts, because she understands better than anyone.

And a few months later when Julie disbands from the Pack, because she realises that she would rather stand _with_ Beau and his crimson eyes instead of against him, she thinks that she should have left ages ago if it meant that her mind was going to be _this_ quiet, just at the same time that Leah says,

 _Told you I'd be your Second._


	3. The Rescue

**_The Presidential Protection Division has never seen a man like Agent Black._**  
 _(A completely whack, fun, and questionably edited AU after watching London Has Fallen. Is this what we call crack? I make no apologies.)_

* * *

"What took you so long?"

"Sorry, Madam President." Jacob Black grinned at her, trying to keep his voice from shaking in his relief as he sank to his knees. She was alive. She was _here_. Bruised, exhausted, her choppy hair sticking up in all directions, but _alive_ and _here_. "I had to make a couple of stops on the way."

President Leah Clearwater huffed with exaggeration as she extended her bound hands toward him so that he could cut her free. "What, did you run out of bullets again? Didn't manage to pick up any grenades while you were there, did you?"

"Sorry, Madam President," he said again. "I used the last one to open the front door."

"Let me guess," she drawled while he slipped his knife under the cable ties. _Cable ties_. So amateur, compared to the lengths these people had gone to in order to capture her. So amateur, compared to what he had done to get her back, what he would do a hundred times over and over again. "We're going back out that way, aren't we?"

"Well, yeah," he said conversationally as the plastic snapped on his blade. "I even left a couple of them alive so they could wave us off."

The President rubbed her now free wrists soothingly as Agent Black moved to her ankles. "Of course you did."

The bloody marks the ties had left on her beautiful dark skin wiped the remaining humour from Jacob's face, but he managed to keep his voice light as he said, "I thought you'd want to thank them for their hospitality."

"They have kept me alive, I suppose."

Looking at her blood, Jacob couldn't bring himself to laugh.

At the same time he tossed the last of the broken restraints to the side with a look of burning fury not often seen in his eyes — without counting the last twenty-one hours of pure hell — the President of the United States promptly threw herself at him.

" _Thank God_ ," she breathed, voice thick with rare emotion — without counting the last twenty-one hours of pure hell, of course.

Her body sagged against his, and Jacob ignored the hollering of the remaining guerrillas echoing throughout the halls as he held her tight.

When her possessive arm around his neck dropped to his waist, pulling him out of his moment of solace, he wanted to protest. But a second later there was a tremor through them both, the telltale sound of gunfire, and the unmistakable thud of a heavy body dropping nearby.

Leah had not so much as flinched.

"Consider yourself thanked," she spat at the dead man, her best agent's gun still steady and level in her hand.

Jacob had never thought it possible to love someone as much as he loved her right then.


	4. Waiting

_**Wherein Leah waits for Jacob**_  
 _(set after Breaking Dawn)_

* * *

 _ **Explanatory A/N:**_ _This was written off one of the June 2017 Flash Fiesta prompts on Fictional Retreat (you should check it out— seriously). I fell a little bit in love with second person POV when I wrote this._

 _ **Warnings:**_ _Bad language._

* * *

You don't go to the big house with Jacob anymore. Watching him smile for Renesmee, even when he doesn't feel like it, is awful and uncomfortable and just downright _wrong_ , so you stay behind and you wait for him to come home — to the Reservation, where he belongs, to a family he would never have left if freaky shit like suckers didn't exist.

Of course, if freaky shit like suckers didn't exist, you'd be happy. Engaged, maybe married and half-way through college already, instead of being guilt-tripped into trying on bridesmaid dresses.

But the world's a fucked up place, so fucked up things like that exist. You're here, after all.

You're here, where Jacob is not. You're here, holed up in the Black's garage with Embry, trying to while away the hours by learning about cars and their engines. Embry's always been quieter than the others, so after actually getting to know him you've discovered that, after growing up an only child, he loves nothing more than having someone he can to show things to. So you let him start teaching you — little things, like changing the oil and replacing dud headlights and batteries, which your dad never quite got around to teaching you before you killed him.

You hole up together in the Black's garage, you work, and you wait for the sun to set. Because that's when Renesmee sleeps. That's when Jacob comes home.

* * *

By the end of the month you can tell the difference between eight different types of wrenches (box, combination, monkey, pipe…); you know what to look for when checking the tyres (tread depth and side-wall damage); you can change a fan belt by yourself (if it's too loose it'll vibrate and wear out quickly). Embry's so pleased that he salvages a Honda Civic from the scrapyard which might possibly be older than the both of you put together, and he tells you all about head gaskets.

* * *

When Embry says he's not going to be around so much anymore, you try not to look as disappointed as you feel. Something about growing up and getting his shit together, he says. His GED. A job. He says he's not Phased for two weeks, so why not stop altogether?

So now it's just you in the Black's garage. You work, and you wait for the sun to set.

* * *

"They're leaving," Jacob says suddenly the next time you see him. When the sun has set. When he's home.

You don't look up. You can't. You're elbow-deep in the Honda's engine and if you stop now the whole thing will fall apart, since Embry's not here to hold it together. But he's taught you well. You can do it.

Closer and closer Jacob comes, until he's standing next to the hood and eyeing you tighten a bolt with only your fingers. "They're leaving," he says again. Louder.

 _They're leaving_.

"They said I could go with them—"

You risk a glance at him, risk him letting see the hurt and disbelief on your face. Just for a second. It is enough. Then you go back to your engine and start muttering obscenities and phrases you learnt years before you joined a gang of teenage boys fighting suckers. It's not a nice car you're working on, not worth how impressed Billy is when he comes to visit, but it's good practice and it keeps you busy.

Jacob barely breathes while you finish up. He knows better.

Eventually, when you're satisfied nothing metal is going to crash to the floor, you've recovered enough to face your Alpha.

He looks exhausted, but at least it's something honest. He doesn't have to pretend that there's sunshine and rainbows here. He doesn't have to pretend with you that he's high on life after imprinting. It kind of became the deal when you became his Second. You have to share these things and you have to work together, otherwise your Pack would be completely dysfunctional instead of just a little.

"Are you going?" you finally ask.

He shrugs. "They said it's my choice."

The scoff which escapes betrays you. What choice? If there was a choice involved, then it would be a wedding dress you are getting measured for, not a bridesmaid's dress.

"Yeah, I know," he says, resigned and so, so tired.

"When?"

"Summertime. Maybe."

"Where?"

"Didn't ask. Does it matter?"

Your hands shake. "Of _course_ it matters." It's an effort not to spit. "Why wouldn't it? Because you're going to be happy wherever you end up?"

Hurt flashes in Jacob's eyes, but you don't feel guilty as you continue raging.

"You're not happy _now_ , so why would you be happy in Alaska or Canada or somewhere _worse_ where everything's dead and nothing's _real_? And what about your Pack? Your dad?" You're nearly screaming. " _What about me?_ "

 _Months_ you've spent waiting for him. Months of trying to understand what you haven't been able to before, and failing. But still trying. Because up until now Jacob has been worth following. Worth waiting for.

Jacob scratches the back of his neck, looking nine kinds of awkward as he tries to find his next words. Completely unphased by your anger, like he always is. "I told Cullen—Edward, I mean… I told him I'd only go if we all can. If I can give you the same choice."

You freeze.

"What?" The smile which takes over his face is completely his own – not the one he saves for Renesmee. "You didn't really think I'd just leave you behind, did you?"

Your face says, yes, you really did.

Jacob laughs in his disbelief. He's laughing as if to say, _don't be so stupid, Leah_.

You hide your smile.


	5. Stupid Things You'll Do After a Break-Up

**_Wherein Leah Does 10 Stupid Things_**  
 _(set around the end of New Moon)_

* * *

 _ **Explanatory A/N:** This was written off one of the April 2017 Flash Fiesta prompts on Fictional Retreat ('She got the idea from an article she read in a women's magazine'). I should note that these prompts can't be more than 1,000 words._

* * *

It's the first bonfire. The celebratory bonfire, which is held for every new Pack member so they can hear the Quileute legends with new ears, so they can be welcomed into the family. Or so she's been told.

"Are you going to sit down?"

"No."

"Are you going to eat?"

"No."

She can't eat — can't sleep, can barely walk in a straight line, and she _definitely_ can't let herself get comfortable. This part of La Push is enemy territory; behind her is the stupid cabin-house-slash-hovel which Emily inherited. The house in which she now lives with Sam. The house Leah thinks maybe she could torch like she torched the photographs and—

"Okay," says Embry, shrugging. "We'll be over there, if you want."

Leah nods stiffly, her face more severe than usual with this new, uneven haircut she has. She can't remember who had pinned her down and given it to her, and nobody has admitted to it yet. They know that she hates the way the ends of her hair which once hung against her lower back now tickle her ears. It's disconcerting, uncomfortable, and a little bit ugly — so much so that she's seriously considered shaving it all off. And none of her new brothers want to be responsible for that.

Truth be told, Leah can't remember much at all about what's happened over the past few weeks. What memories she does have come at her in quick fits and starts, at full force, enough to steal breath from her when she least expects it.

She had panic attacks, when Sam went missing for two weeks during their senior year. This feels similar, just worse. The pieces of her shattered heart rattle in her chest with every breath, and she's furious and grieving and lost and sad _all the time_. Sometimes she has to phase out while in the middle of a patrol just so she can cry or break the nearest tree, wishing that it was something else. Someone else.

She wishes that she could remember her dad's funeral. Wishes that she had been able to go, so that she could remember.

(Seth hadn't made it, either. He'd been hiding in a cave in who-knows-where, while she'd been over halfway to the Dakotas with Paul Lahote hot on her tail, because she and Seth had been unable to escape their new bodies and make sense of the world.)

Most of all, Leah wishes that she was somewhere else, because then she wouldn't have to watch Sam and Emily play happy families in the backyard of their stupid cabin-house-slash-hovel.

* * *

When two weeks pass and she still doesn't feel any better, not even a tiny bit, Leah dyes her hair. She got the idea from an article she read in a women's magazine (' _10 Stupid Things You'll Do After a Break-Up_ ') which she would never admit reading to anyone, ever — just as she would not admit to doing most of the things that had been on the list:

1\. Sleep with someone inappropriate. (Check. Paul Lahote.)  
2\. Drink alcohol like it's your job. (Check, and double check.)  
3\. Do weird things to your appearance. (Did exploding into a wolf count as one?)  
4\. Decide that literally every person you pass on the street is The One. (Definitely not. What if she imprinted on one of them?)  
5\. Start a stupid new hobby. (Too many to count.)  
6\. Stalk your ex. (Leah didn't need to stalk Sam — she had to see him _every day_ , whether she wanted to or not.)  
7\. Eat everything that you see. (Check. It's not like she could help herself; she's a wolf now after all.)  
8\. Get angry at someone who you have no business getting angry at. (All. The. Time.)  
9\. Find inanimate objects emotional. (Definitely not. There was nothing left. She'd trashed anything which had reminded her of Sam.)  
10\. Repeat all of the above an annoying number of times. (Check.)

So she dyes her hair a dark blonde, which is stupidly hard with all the bleaching and the toning and the damn smell, because she's sure doing ' _weird things to your appearance_ ' probably doesn't mean turning into a four-legged animal.

(That, and she finally decided that she doesn't want to be bald. She can't go and give her poor mom a heart attack, too.)

The next day, Sam takes one look at her hair and tells her to take a few days off. He is the only one who can see what she really wants, what she really needs. Whether that's because he knows her better than anyone else, or because he's Alpha and can therefore sense things which her brothers can't — or both — she doesn't stop to think. Sam's given her an out for a few days, and she's taking it.

Within the hour she is driving to the only place she can think of that's more than a hundred miles away from La Push. From Sam, from Seth, from her mom. From the house where her father died.

It takes a few tries (she lost her nerve, at first, and walked back down the stairwell an hour after arriving and sat in the car for another hour) but eventually she's banging on the door and hoping that she's not gotten the address wrong otherwise she doesn't know what—

The door opens, and Rachel blinks her shock away. Shock at the appearance of her friend, at her height, her hair. "Leah?"

"S'me." She's nervous all of a sudden, and she hates it. Hates that she's not seen Rach in over a year, hates that Rach didn't come to Harry's funeral. She didn't even think about holding Leah's hand like she should have done. Like Leah had done for _her_ at Sarah's funeral.

"Leah," Rachel says. She's nervous, too, like she knows what Leah's thinking, like she's feeling guilty. Good. "What are you doing here?"

With her courage drained, her anger simmering, and her heartbreak slowly killing her, Leah bursts into tears.


	6. Sober

**_Wherein Jacob fights the imprint_**  
 _(AU)_

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _This was written off one of the September 2017 Flash Fiesta prompts on Fictional Retreat. It could possibly be considered as part of, or at least inspired by my fic 'Now & Then'._

* * *

 **Sober**

* * *

Seventy days. That's how long he's been running away from Renesmee.

* * *

Seventy-three days. If he were an alcoholic, he'd be well on his way to collecting some chips for his sobriety.

He mentions this to Leah, and she offers to make him something.

"I could weave you a bracelet," she suggests, "and carve a charm or something for every milestone. I mean, I wouldn't be as good at it as you and your dad or anything-"

"I wasn't being serious."

Leah blinks, then shrugs, as if to say _'Whatever',_ and Jacob isn't sure whether she's offended or not.

* * *

Seventy-four days.

It seems to be better the further away he is from her. Renesmee. His head doesn't hurt as bad, and he's just that little less inclined to go and find her. He doesn't know what he'd say to her exactly - doesn't know how much she would understand, even at the rate she is growing; she's surely got to be bigger than Claire now, but who knows?

* * *

Seventy-seven days.

He hasn't phased for just as long. He's scared - no, he's _terrified_ that if he embraces his wolf he'll sprint across state lines to get back to her. That he'll forget why he's doing this in the first place, forget that he's doing it for himself - _him_ , not the wolf.

Because it's the wolf that wants Renesmee. It's the wolf that imprinted on her, and the wolf that begs him to be with her, even if just to see that she's okay. Breathing. Whole.

It doesn't matter that _he's_ not okay. Nobody cares. Not even Leah. She doesn't care that he snaps at her, bites her head off at least six times a day. She lets him rant and rave, or sit in complete silence for hours if he wants to. She suffers his crap, even though she's dealing with her own, and _still_ she stays with him.

Fine. Leah does care. Deep down, he knows that. Otherwise she wouldn't be here with him, miles and miles away in a little town which he can't remember the name of.

(They'll be moving on again tomorrow. They never stay in one place for more than a night.)

If Leah didn't care, she'd push him away when he reaches for her hand, or her body in the night hours. Too many times has he nearly upped and left her before morning, and he thinks - he _hopes_ Leah understands that he curls around her and holds on because he wants to stay.

He's going to beat this.

* * *

Seventy-seven days and a half.

The nights are when it's the worst.

Sometimes Jake panics because Leah sleeps so deeply, so soundly, that often she doesn't move for hours on end.

Sometimes Leah shakes him awake. Since he's been tearing himself in half - going one way when his body begs him to do differently - his dreams and his nightmares have been _so_ vivid that his sweat drenches the bed.

And when he kicks her, she kicks straight back.

"Stop it," she hisses, "or you can go on the floor." She turns over in his arms. "I'm so getting my own bed tomorrow."

Even half-asleep, Jacob knows she's lying. They stopped asking for twin rooms a while ago. There was little point in keeping up pretences when they'd started waking up together only a couple days after leaving.

"Liar," he accuses aloud, throat thick with sleep.

Leah kicks him again.

* * *

Eighty-two days.

He nearly loses it that morning. He's not even sure _why._ Leah comes a little too close, is all, when he's least expecting it, when his mind is elsewhere. And the look of rejection on her face when he jerks away is enough to send him over the edge.

She doesn't deserve this.

The heat crawls up his spine and his shoulders tighten, and for a second, he's sure that his shape blurs around the edges. So much for being an Alpha. _The_ Alpha. If he was strong enough, he wouldn't struggle this much.

But he doesn't give in. He will never give in.

"Leah-" He throws out a hand as he coalesces back into himself, reaching for her. But she thinks he's pushing her away, and she takes a step back. "Stop," he says, his breathing ragged. " _Please._ "

"I don't know what you want." She sounds a little bit pissed, a whole lot of worried. "I'm obviously not helping-"

 _But you are,_ is what he wants to say.

"Don't go," is what comes out.

Jacob falls back onto the bed, still shaking but more in control of himself. She caught him off guard. That's it. He forces himself to breathe, to think, to remember.

"Okay." Leah sits beside him on the mattress, crosses her legs, and holds his hand in hers.

* * *

Ninety days.

Maybe Leah should start carving those charms after all.

* * *

Ninety-four days.

They're in Miami. They've been putting as much distance as they can between them and… well, everything, and finally they're just about the farthest away they can get. There's nowhere else to go.

Perhaps this might be the place they finally forgo their one-night-only rule.

"What do we do now?"

"What do you want to do?"

He has no idea.

After a few minutes, Leah turns to the window and watches the beach go past. "You're my best friend," she says. "If you want to go home and love the bloodsucker's spawn, then… I'll go with you. I won't like it, but I'll do it. If that's what you need."

There's a sudden tightness in his chest, and it's not from fighting an oncoming phase.

"And…" He's hesitant, careful. "What if I don't?"

Leah turns back and props her feet up on the dash, getting comfortable, as if she just _knows_ that he has absolutely no intentions of turning the Rabbit around.

"Then we don't go home." she says simply. And she turns the radio up.


End file.
